


Your small hands, precisely equal to my own

by Anonymous



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Intimacy, Light Angst, Porn with Feelings, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 15:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13274601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Lup is newly in her body, Taako is still uncomfortable with his. They take some Twin Time to reassure and realign.





	Your small hands, precisely equal to my own

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this anonymously because fandoms, in my experience, are quick to yuck people's yums no matter how they are tagged, and I wanted to share this without the yucks following me to the rest of my internet fandom life. So fellow yummers...enjoy.
> 
> Title is from "Twenty-One Love Poems" by Adrienne Rich.

Taako’s cooking, because he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s stupid to be anxious. Telling himself it’s stupid doesn’t keep his jittery hands from shaking or loosen the tightness in his chest any, so he’s making a dinner that they probably won’t even eat until the wee hours. 

Kravitz kissed him before he left this morning, heated and knowing. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, even though Taako hadn’t put on his glamour yet and had bread flour all over his hands and probably in his hair.

“Lup doesn’t care what I look like,” he replied, but accepted the kiss and the tender sentiment.

Now, the bread is in the oven getting a nice brown crust on it, the pork loin is cooked nearly to perfection in a sauce of apples and pears and onions, and there are two bottles of white wine chilling in a bucket of ice on the table because it just tastes like gogurt to Taako and Lup likes her booze sweet. Taako is dressed, a blue cashmere sweater with a low v-neck and velvet leggings the color of cranberries, because Lup’s body is still new and she loves soft textures. His hair is held up in a twisted bun with one of the new Taako-brand beginner’s wands, the prototypes are all over the house right now and he was starting to sweat, but he knows at some point tonight that wand will come out because Lup likes to play with his hair.

Everything is tailored to his sister’s tastes, except for his face. He’s burned a spell slot to make sure he still looks like himself, like her, like they used to the last time she was alive. That’s purely self-indulgent. It’s not like she hasn’t seen him without the glamour on, because she has, plenty of times. He left it off the day her new body was ready, saving all his magic for her transmutation. Barry got her out of the tank, and when they were done making out like horny teenagers Taako shooed Barry out, hugged the hell out of his sister, and lay her down on a blanket to give her back the body she wanted. Barefaced and wearing his stress-baking sweats, he carefully crafted her breasts, soothed her Barry-induced erection down to a perfect, glistening clitoris, molded sheltering labia and pressed his fingers into her to craft a space for her lover. Kissed the tears off of her face and held her close, for a long, long time, neither of them able to speak in the depth of this intimacy.

Anything his sister needs, Taako will do--but tonight’s Twin Time is for the both of them, and he can be just a tiny bit selfish.

***

It never occurred to him, even once, that Lup might be nervous too. It seems inconceivable. Yet here she is, holding his hand, chattering about the meal he’s set out on the table, pouring herself a glass of wine and taking a gulp, dressed up in a low-backed red satin sheath and her body drawn tight as a bowstring. 

“Let’s eat,” he says, squeezing her fingers. “It’s all just come out of the oven.” This isn’t how it usually goes, but a lot has changed in the dozen years they’ve been separated. Some of Lup’s tension eases, but she’s biting her lip.

“Bro, if you don’t want--”

“I do,” he says, immediately. “But if  _ you _ don’t--”

“Shut up, of course I do. Let’s have dinner. Fucking wine and dine me.”

Taako snorts, draws her in to press their foreheads together. She’s smiling now, fond and real. He wants to kiss that smile, so he does, gently, a promise. She tucks their noses together and squeezes his waist.  

“Yeah. Sit down, I’ll serve.”

They eat a little, and drink a lot, and talk and laugh until the tension eases and Lup’s ears and cheeks are flushed. “Yours too,” she points out when he teases her.

“Yeah, but your tolerance is shit now.”

She shrugs. “Not enough to spoil our fun.”

Taako Levitates the dishes and the leftovers away, and pours the last of the wine into his glass. “Are you sure?” he asks, watching his drink swirl.

“Taako.” He looks over at Lup, and she’s watching him with a keen expression, her pupils wide as a stalking cat’s. “I’m sure.” Then she rises, leaving her own empty wine glass behind, and strolls out in the direction of Taako’s bedroom. She’s wearing heels--a pair of his heels, actually--and stockings with a black seam up the back like some kind of noir character, the flex of her calves almost obscenely outlined. She doesn’t go femme very often, but when she does she goes all out. Taako drinks his wine in one long, slow swallow, cleans his teeth with a cantrip, and follows.

He finds her standing in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom, frowning at a few damp spots on the front of her dress. “Borrowed your toothbrush.”

“My considerate sister,” Taako replies, slides up behind her to put his chin on her shoulder and his hands at her waist. “Don’t fuss with the dress.”

Lup smirks, covers her hands with his and draws them around her stomach. “I won’t be wearing it long?”

“Or it’s gonna get more wet,” he says, and slides his hand downward. Lup lets out a slow breath, fingers tensing over his as he rubs his flat palm between her legs; the dress doesn’t have any give and he’s only barely touching her, but her eyes are fixed on their image in the mirror. She guides his other hand up between her breasts, to press his fingers to the skin above her neckline, and he strokes softly there with his fingertips. “You look fucking great,” he murmurs into her neck, and punctuates the declaration with a kiss.

“You too,” she replies. “You look beautiful, babe.” She turns her face toward him to nuzzle them closer together; he obliges her, kissing the corner of her mouth, looking at their matching reflections. They are soothingly identical. He presses up closer against her bared back, and she wriggles against him to feel the cashmere. “So soft…”

“Just a little sensory treat.” Taako slides one hand higher to stroke her throat and presses with the other, trying to hone in on her clit through layers of fabric. He knows he’s come near, or near enough, when she hums and rolls her hips up; then she twists in his arms to face him and pushes him gently backward to the bed. 

“Help me with these fucking stockings, then.” When he sits, she puts her foot in his lap; he was half-hard already, but a red stiletto inches from his crotch makes his cock twitch. She smirks at him as he undoes the shoe, and then the other. Then she rucks the skirt of the dress up to her waist, and he almost laughs--she’s wearing men’s black boxer-briefs under the stockings, because Barry likes them and so that’s the only underwear she owns. It’s sexy, and very  _ Lup _ , and he has to press his face into the join of her legs to hide how close he suddenly is to crying. 

Above him, she sucks in a breath, so he wraps his hands around the backs of her thighs and licks at the damp spot she’s already made, and her legs tremble. “Taako, the fucking  _ stockings _ \--”

He licks again, firmer, just to hear the soft sound she makes, then pulls back to peel the stockings down. She kicks them off her feet like an afterthought and slides her thighs open across his lap, cups his face to hold him there as she kisses the breath out of him.

It’s so good to have her close, her wrapped around him and him wrapped around her, the little humming noises she makes and her soft breaths and her tongue touching his. She squirms in his lap to rub the velvet of his leggings against her inner thighs, and her hands sink into his hair immediately and pull it from the precarious bun.

When they pull apart to breathe she strokes his cheekbones and the roots of his ears, his parted lips. Her expression is so tender it makes his chest ache, and he tugs at her bunched-up dress. “Arms up.”

She obeys, twisting as he tugs until it’s off and discarded on the floor. She’s not wearing a bra, and as she lowers her arms again she cups her breasts fondly in her hands. “Thanks again for these. Bar loves them, he says they’re a perfect handful. He’s got really sensitive palms, you know? Likes to press my nipples right in the centers of them.”

“They’re a little bigger than they used to be,” Taako adds, considering.

“Well, yeah. You’re the best fucking transmutation wizard ever, ten thousand times better than that hedge wizard who did it the first time.”

“You were a child the first time, he couldn’t give you big tits,” Taako argues, looking up at her. “But yeah, I am the best fucking transmutation wizard ever.” Then he tucks his fingers into the back of her underwear to hold her close, and wraps his mouth around her nipple.

She arches against him, humming so deep in her chest it’s like a purr, and her hands dig deeper into his hair to cradle his head against her. He gets a little lost in it, her nails on his scalp and her skin in his mouth and under his hands, her scent all around him; it’s soothing, until she shifts her hips closer to brush up against his cock, and then it’s just hot as hell. He bites a little to make her yelp and switches to the other side, sliding his hands down further over her ass.

“Babe,” she says finally, “Taako, come on, these clothes are nice but it’s time to take ‘em off.” Reluctantly he leans back, and she dips down to kiss him; then she crawls off his lap and further onto the bed, flopping over onto her side to face him. “Chop chop.”

“Bossy,” he mutters, but shimmies out of his leggings and sweater. He’s wearing a lacy bralette and panty set underneath, the same cranberry color as the leggings, and Lup grins.

“Look at you, all sexied up under the soft stuff.” Then she reaches out for him, and he climbs over and nestles into her arms.

They kiss, little soft pecks and deeper, heated explorations, drawn-out kisses with shared breaths in between. Taako strokes every inch of her he can reach, tangles them up skin to skin to feel the soft fur of her legs, the smooth line of her back, the squeezable flesh of her waist and her stomach pressed against his. She slides her hands under the bralette to thumb at his nipples, shoves it up and off to feel their chests expand and contract against each other. He’s so hard he’s leaking, and when he slips his thigh between her legs she leaves a wet smear on his skin.

“Will you,” she whispers, breathless, between kisses, “will you fuck me, I want to just wrap you up inside me forever, is that okay?”

Taako laughs, and his eyes burn, and he presses kisses all over Lup’s face. “Whatever you want, Lulu, anything, you’re my. You’re my heart.”

She wraps her arms around him tighter, a Magnus-style bear hug. “Don’t cry,” she says, but he can taste salt on her cheeks too. 

They stay that way until they can both breathe again, until the gentle rocking of their bodies together tips over from comfort to heat, and Taako rolls onto his back and pulls Lup over him like a blanket. She wriggles out of her underwear and strips him of his, sits up across his thighs and reaches down to press three fingers into herself.

_ “Fuck,” _ he says, watching her, “don’t hurt yourself.”

She laughs. “I might’ve pregamed a little this afternoon.” Then she takes her slick hand and wraps it around his cock, and he inhales so hard he almost chokes on it. She strokes him slow and thorough, not teasing but not enough, and pets his chest with her other hand, cupping his pecs and stroking his nipples, fitting her fingers to the ridge of his collarbone. She never looks away from his eyes. Not when she rises up to place him against her, not when he grips the flesh of her hips to steady her, not when she takes him inside her body in a slow descent, mouth falling open, and settles against his hips with his cock as deep as it can go.

She stays there, arching, clenching around him and circling her hips, and he knows she’s feeling him out, the shape of his familiar body fitting with her new one. He finds her hands and clasps them, and she squeezes back hard, watching him with her hair falling into her face. “Don’t ever fucking leave me, okay?” she says, quiet and fierce.

Taako slow-blinks against the intensity of her gaze.  _ “You--” _ he starts, but can’t say the rest.

“I know,” she replies, and rocks up on her knees and down again with a little  _ ah. _ “I missed you. I missed you so much, I was barely even there.”

“I missed you too,” he replies quickly, pressing his hips up, chasing the tide of her movement. “I didn’t know what I was missing, but I knew I wasn’t...I knew I wasn’t right.”

She drops down over him like her strings were cut, muffling his groan with a kiss. “You’re always right,” she says, biting at his lips. “You’re always you underneath, you’re always mine.”

That hits too close to wounds that are still raw in Taako, and he doesn’t reply; focuses on pushing up into her instead, the flex of her pelvis and the clench of her around him, chasing simpler pleasure. He can’t get as deep this way, with her leaning down, but he desperately wants to keep her close. Instead he slides a leg out from between hers, pulls his knee up, lets his thighs fall open to give her room. She sinks down with a moan, sudden and loud, and he presses his lips to the twitching length of her ear. “C’mon, faster,” he says, and it comes out a pleading whine. Lup clutches his hands tight enough to leave welts with her nails and gives him what he asks for, breathing out cries that get louder on every exhale. 

He moans out in sympathy and reply, his skin crawling with rising pleasure; it’s hot as lava and slick inside her, and he has to tug his hand from hers, just to reach between them and feel where they’re joined. He clenches his hand, gives her his knuckles to rub her clit against and she shouts when he makes contact. “Fuck, oh fuck, Taako, right there, right there, right there!”

She fucks his hand and his cock with sudden frantic energy, and his balls are drawn up so tight they’re aching. He turns his face into her shoulder to hide his eyes and just feel the tingling creep of his orgasm. “Close, I’m close, fuck, can I stay--”

“Yeah,” she replies with urgent kisses on the side of his face, “yeah, sweetheart, come on.”

She rides him through it as it crests, in slow pulses so sweet it’s almost painful, and he shouts his pleasure until his voice cracks; she circles her hips as he comes down, quick, tiny movements as she throbs around him. “Taako,” she whines, slips her hand with his down between them to rub at her clit. “Please, please…”

He’s still trembling, heart pounding, and he nuzzles his face toward her at the desperate tone of her voice, grabs her ass to hold her and keep himself inside her, rubs his fingers along her taint as if to soothe. He finds her mouth with his own as her fingers speed up and her limbs start to twitch; it seems agonizing, how long she teeters there, until she sobs into his mouth and jerks like she’s touched a live wire. He wraps his limbs around her as she writhes and cries out, rocks her slower and slower as her muscles tense and then loosen until she’s melted into him, panting.

Even as he softens, her walls undulate, gently pulling, cradling his cock inside; her lips find his neck, his ear, the corner of his eye. “Stay,” she says, or maybe he says; with his eyes closed it’s hard to tell where he ends and she begins. He lets her roll them over, rests his head on her chest to listen to her heart slow. Lets her pull the new tangles out of his hair and stroke his spine from neck to ass in a slow, steady rhythm. He realizes that at some point his glamour wore off, but now it doesn’t seem to matter. Lup is here, and she loves him. 

“You’re my Taako,” she affirms, as though she can read his mind. “Always have been. Don’t be sad anymore.”

“Mm,” he says. That sadness can’t touch him here; it feels far away. He nestles his face into her breast. “I’ll try.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm cis, ace, and an only child, so I wrote about a lot of things that are not in my experience or that I experience differently. If I was disrespectful in my representation of Lup and her body/her feelings about it, I apologize, and would like to know so that I can make edits. I don't apologize for the rest, as the fic is properly tagged.
> 
> Anonymous comments are on, if you want! Nasty comments will be deleted without response.


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